


Caught

by execution_empress



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Carnival, F/M, alternative universe, mermaid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:10:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/execution_empress/pseuds/execution_empress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Clintasha Mermaid AU - Clint thinks the new attraction is just a fake, but she's anything but that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caught

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> So I had this craving for a Clintasha Mermaid AU (and I really had in mind a scene that occurs in this ficlet), so I decided to try my hand at it. I may or may not continue on, I'm not sure (I do have some ideas and I'd love to flesh out this whole AU more), but I at least wanted this much written out. 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys. ♥

Working in the circus, Clint’s seen a lot of sideshow attractions. He’s seen them come and go, some staying for years while others only last a season. He’s seen those that are real and those that are fake. Usually those that are real weren’t as interesting as the phony ones.The phony ones all mimick fantasy creatures. Unicorns and baby dragons. Satyrs and centaurs. There were even a few that pretended to be merpeople. 

It was easy to see why Clint wasn’t impressed with the new attraction. 

She only travels by tank, which Clint thinks is ridiculous. He hears her protest over the bathing suit top she needs to wear until a few good points make her put it on (reluctantly, of course). Her tail, though it looks life-like, is something she constantly wears. He wonders when she ever leaves her tank or how she even goes to the bathroom in that thing. There are a few scales on her skin and a fin on her back and he admires the details, as well as make-up work, that went into her design. 

He’s not fooled though. He still thinks it’s all an act.

As weeks go by, she stays and swims and she becomes a big attraction. Though Clint never admits it, he becomes jealous as he loses the crowd to her. He walks to her large tank one night, wanting to chat with her, and catches her singing some song in a foreign tongue. She sits on the dock, moonlight bathing her, as she sings and swoons. The closer he gets to her, the more he notices new things about her, like how her short, red hair looks uneven, as if hastily chopped, and how her skin and scales have scars on them. He starts to think she painted scales on top of the scars to hide them. He knocks on the tank, which makes her stop singing and turn to him. 

He’s not fooled by a pretty face, he tells himself. He’s not fooled by his heart racing.

Her green eyes pierce right through him. Her coral lips smirk as she beckons him up to the deck. He forgets all reason as he walks to her, more fascinated than envious at the moment. She pats the seat next to her and he sits, their arms touching, his leg against her fin. With his arms bare, he can feel her skin and how warm it feels. Against his pants, the tail feels cold, so he thinks more than ever that it’s fake. He doesn’t say anything yet though.

“You’re the archer, aren’t you?” she asks. It snaps him from his thoughts and his eyes quickly meet hers. “Clint, right?”

“That’s right. And you’re Tasha, right?”

“Natasha.”

“Tasha sounds prettier.” She rolls her eyes, but he notices there’s a small smile hidden in her smirk. He grins as he starts to notice other little things about her. The pearls she wears around her neck are misshapen, like each one is real and truly from the ocean. When she’s not performing, she doesn’t try to cover her breasts, even with him so close. As his eyes gaze over her supple curve, he finally notices a few, small slits at each rib. If she was a mermaid, would those be gills? he wonders. He thinks they’re tattoos, just like the scales at her hips. The detail is so amazing and it does look real. He lifts his hand, wanting to feel, and notices her leaning away from him. His eyes snap back up and he sees that she’s watching him, but she doesn’t look offended.

No, she’s not offended. She’s amused. 

His mouth opens and closes like a fish as he tries to find his voice. He can’t even stumble out an apology. She, on the other hand, laughs.

“Do you stare at every newcomer there is at this place or am I the lucky one?”

“I-I don’t stare- I mean, I don’t mean to. Wait, do I stare?” She raises an eyebrow and shoots him a deadpan look. He can’t blame her. He can’t even believe his own lie. “Okay, fine, I do, but you look real!”

“Last time I checked, I was real.” 

“I mean the tail, the scales, that fin, those gills, even those pearls; That must have cost you a pretty penny, huh?”

For the first time since he started talking to her, actually since she’s been at the circus, he sees her lips turn downward and the light diminish from her eyes. He can see something grim on her face, a world of pain behind her eyes, even if she won’t look at him. Just as fast as she frowns, she smirks at him again, but he knows it’s forced. It’s clearly a sensitive subject.

What surprises him is what she says next.

“Do you want to touch?”

“Huh?” 

The smirk doesn’t seem forced anymore. It looks more predatory. She holds a secret behind her eyes, as green as her tail, and he grows more and more curious. 

“It’s okay,” she tells him. “You can touch one of my scales or my tail. My gills might feel weird, but you can touch them as well.” 

He wonders just how a tattoo can feel weird, but he doesn’t argue. He touches a few scales on her shoulder, surprised at how smooth it feels. His fingers trail along her back, her breath hitching from the sensation, and he feels the fin, like it was attached and grown from her back. He feels the scales on her hips and they’re smooth, like the scales on her shoulder, yet hard. They’re not as soft as her skin. He notices the way her hip scales blend in with her tail and how, in the moonlight, the two have an identical shine. His fingers move down to her tail and the two feel similar. His brows furrow, as he still doesn’t (or can’t) believe it, so he brings his thumb up to trace under her breast. It’s not sturdy skin he feels, but rather a flap of skin, like a real gill.

Her gills and her scales are real. She’s really a mermaid. A whirlwind of emotions flash through him, like shock and confusion and excitement and disbelief, as his jaw drops and he stutters. He turns to see she’s amused by his realization.

“Y-Y-You’re real!”

“I told you I was.”

“I mean you’re really a mermaid!”

“And again, I told you I was.”

He slaps himself in the face and the sting tells him it’s not a dream. She laughs and, not sure what else he can do, he laughs with her. “Holy shit. You’re real. You’re really real.”

“I am,” she replies. His mouth runs faster than his mind as he babbles on.

“I can’t believe it. How are you real? Are there others? Why are you even here? Shouldn’t you be in the ocean or something?” When the laughter fades from her eyes and her smirk looks so forced, he knows he overstepped himself again. They had just started to talk. She doesn’t owe him any explanation, so instead she tiptoes around it.

“Don’t let yourself get caught. That’s all I can tell you.”

Tension fills the air as she turns to look at the sky again. His gaze falls on her as more and more questions fill his mind. He wants to ask but he knows she won’t tell. She’s already revealed so much. It doesn’t matter where she comes from or how she got here. She was here now and all this time he has given her dirty, envious looks. He feels guilty for that. Wanting to ease the tension, he gives her a playful grin as he nudges her shoulder.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind being caught by you.” She looks at him, raising an eyebrow, and laughs again. Her laugh is pretty, like a small splash of a wave on the sand. He finds he likes making her laugh, just so he can hear it again.

“I think you would mind,” she says. He shakes his head and wiggles his eyebrows. Her eyes roll, though she’s still chuckling. “Oh come on, you would.”

“Would not.” 

“Would so.”

“Nope. Totally wouldn’t mind.”

Natasha wants to disagree, but she knows it will get her nowhere. Instead, she grins as her hand settles on his chest. Her arm wraps around him as she leans in and whispers, “You wouldn’t mind being caught, huh? How about I catch you now then?” Before Clint can answer, she pulls on his shirt and locks her lips with his. She keeps him close as she dives back down into the tank and takes him with her.

She tastes of the sea, of something salty and cool, yet there’s still something sweet about her. He tastes of soda and cotton candy, of everything sweet and addicting. Their eyes close, their tongues tease and flick, and their teeth awkwardly clack when they try to bite one another’s lips. His hand settles on the small of her back as he places his trust in her. He can feel her breath in his mouth and it feels easier to stay underwater for just a bit longer.

If this was what it was like to be caught by a mermaid, he can see why men sank to their deaths. At that moment, he’s certain he wouldn’t mind dying if it means the last thing he experiences is her kiss. 

She doesn’t keep him down for too long though. She knows the limitations of man. They stay intertwined, lips crushed against one another, until she swims back up and they break for air. He looks down and sees the moonlight shine down on her and she looks up and sees the stars reflect in his eyes. The two smile at one another, forehead against forehead, then they laugh. 

“Told ya I wouldn’t mind being caught by you,” he says with a wink.

“But that’s- that’s just one time!”

“Still didn’t mind!” 

She shakes her head as she splashes him. He splashes back, then swims towards the dock to pull himself out. She knows it’s inevitable, but she can’t help but feel a bit lonely. It’s been so long since she talked with someone and enjoyed companionship. She wants him to stay and chat. She even longs for his kiss again. Loneliness wasn’t just a human thing, it meant she was alive, and she certainly felt alive again with him. She follows him, helping him out of the tank, and he turns to look down at her.

“I should get going,” he says and she nods in agreement.

“I know.”

“I’ll be back. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

A small smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. “You might get caught by me again.”

And he smirks right back at her. “I hope I am.” He takes off his shirt and wrings it out and she’s briefly distracted by his muscles. It’s when he calls her name again that she turns to him. “Tasha, want me to bring you anything tomorrow?”

“Some books, please,” she replies. “And I want to try some human food. Bring me something good. Or something sweet. Something you recommend.” 

He drapes his shirt on his shoulder and nods, knowing he could do all that. “Okay. Books and food. Sounds good to me.” 

As Clint walks away, he can’t help but turn to look back at her. She waves and he waves in return. Being caught isn’t a bad thing, he thinks. He decides he’ll tell her why tomorrow. She wasn’t caught. She was taken away. Whoever captured her never thought of her best interests. She pulled him down, but there was care and concern in her arms. There was trust. If that’s what being caught entailed, he knows he’ll gladly let himself be caught again and again by her, just because he felt safe.


End file.
